Peasant Number Five
by Random Ruth
Summary: A warm and fluffy Christmas fic! Dean and Sammy are leaving town, but there's something Dean has to do first. Wee!chesters. One-shot.


**Peasant #5**

* * *

Dean had never done this before. The very thought of it felt _wrong_ somehow. His stomach was full of butterflies – no, cockroaches – butterflies were too girly.

They had spent a little over two weeks in a little anonymous town in the middle of nowhere. Dad had been cleaning up the local hauntings until just this afternoon. Dean and Sammy were both going to the local school, and Sammy especially had enjoyed it. Then again he usually did. Dad had picked them up from school and announced that they would be leaving tonight. Dean had hoped for another day for Sammy's sake, but there was no such luck.

He'd tried to argue with Dad, but there was no point. Dad needed to make some money and that was the only reason they were still here at all. And so here Dean was, contemplating doing something he knew shouldn't – yet he had to. Dad had gone to a bar for a night of hustling, leaving with a parting "Look out for Sammy."

Speaking of, Dean's little brother was sitting on the end of one of the beds, his little legs not even touching the floor, eyes glowing blue from the old TV he was watching. When he sensed Dean watching him from beside the door, he turned to him. "Why're you standing there?" he asked.

Dean didn't even bother to find out what Sammy had been watching, just walked quickly across the room and flicked the TV off. "We're going out," Dean answered. No going back now. He wrote a short note on the motel stationary and left it on the bed closest to the door for Dad to find.

"But Daddy said we're supposed to stay here," Sammy said with a small frown.

Dean found the only slightly crushed bag of chips he was looking for in Dad's bag. He handed them to Sammy as he herded him to the motel room door. Chips should keep him quiet. Dean had already opened the bag for him. "Yeah, well, Dad was wrong, okay? Eat you chips and follow me."

Sammy nodded while he munched, one hand already tinged orange with cheesy dust. Dean took Sammy's other hand in his own and they sneaked away.

* * *

He left Sammy with the other kids in a little room to the left of the stage where everyone was getting into the costumes. The stage wasn't very high, but then there weren't many people here to see the play anyway. What chairs they did have were mostly full, and split into two down the middle. He walked along the aisle, and if some people were giving the ten-year-old on his own funny looks, Dean decided to ignore them.

The chair closest to the door wasn't free, but the one a few rows forward was. There was an overweight man with a thick moustache and Porsche-branded clothing in the chair next to it. He spared Dean a glance before continuing his conversation with the man beside him. The chair scraped along the floor a little as Dean sat down.

He waited for Sammy.

The play began with some poor kids dressed as trees walking onto the stage, only to then stand along the backdrop in a row. Then it was Sammy's turn. He walked up the small set of steps to the stage level, following four other kids who'd landed a similar role. He had a light brown piece of material that may have been a blanket at one point draped over his shoulders. On his head was a dishcloth, tied in place. The sight of him alone, with his sneakers poking out from under his 'robe', nearly had Dean laughing out loud.

Sammy was so excited about the school play. They'd never stayed in a town long enough at this time of year for Sammy ever to take part in one. Dean had encouraged him, knowing that Dad was quite busy and there was a tiny chance that they would be here long enough. It wasn't a big part; Sammy was 'Peasant #5' and only had one line to say. It wasn't enough to convince Dad to stay on for, and Dean had asked.

The peasants walked in an oval on the stage before standing in formation. The teacher on the piano started to play a vaguely familiar tune. The trees in the background started to sway with their arms in the air. The trees and peasants started to sing.

Except for one. Sammy was very small on the stage, his eyes wide and scared. He searched out Dean in the audience of grown-ups and finally their eyes met. Sammy raised his hand a little to wave. Dean gave him the most encouraging grin he could, a big wave, and Sammy started to sing along with the others. But his eyes didn't stray from Dean the entire time.

With the song over the peasants exited stage left in single file. While Sammy waited his turn to use the steps he flashed Dean a little smile. It was worth all of this for that little smile alone.

* * *

The play continued, the peasants coming on now and again to sing, and when Sammy was not on stage Dean was very bored indeed. He shifted in his chair a lot, and despaired that he couldn't swing his legs anymore like Sammy could. The shepherds followed the angel Gabriel to the stable full of big plush animals, and Dean was sure there wasn't a hippopotamus in the nativity story.

Sammy and his fellow peasants arrived after the three kings. They all huddled around the manger and Sammy's eyes lifted to the audience. He found Dean with his encouraging grin, look a deep breath, and said his line. "It-it's a boy." He eyes darted down to his shoes again, too shy to keep eye contact with the audience for that long.

Dean wanted to burst into applause, but the proud smile on his face that Sammy couldn't even see would have to do. He did sit on his hands though, just in case.

There wasn't much of the play left, and Sammy was somewhere on stage the entire time, so Dean paid some attention. There were two more songs, and Sammy glanced at Dean throughout. Then everyone on stage bowed, before leaving the stage and going into the little room where all of the costumes were. The trees are last off the stage, shuffling from foot to foot after standing for so long. Sammy was lost in the crowd of kids.

The lights over the audience clicked on. The parents started to talk amongst each other. The hum of conversation quietened when the kids came out of the room again, back in their normal clothes. Most ran to find their parents, some gathered into little groups to talk, and Sammy sought out Dean. It didn't take him long because Dean hadn't moved. As Sammy approached, he stood up, kind of glad to be off the cheap chair.

"Dean, Dean! Did you see? Was it good?" Sammy rushed; smile wide and eyes bright.

Sammy's enthusiasm was infectious and Dean chuckled. "You did great!" he said. "High-five, little man." He raised his hand just out of Sammy's reach, so his little brother had to jump to slap his palm. "Come on, we'd better go."

Dean wasn't surprised to find the Impala parked outside the church hall under a streetlight. Dad's face was in shadow, but Dean could see the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Sammy thankfully didn't notice Dean's slight hesitation and skipped happily over to the car. As he climbed into the backseat, he smiled widely at his big brother.

And for that Dean wasn't sorry. Not one bit.

* * *

**The End – Merry Christmas!**


End file.
